


Sucker for You

by Phoenix_Soar



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Angel/Demon Sex, Awake the Snake (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Consentacles, Crack Treated Seriously, Crowley Has Tentacles (Good Omens), Gratuitous Smut, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Lack of Communication, M/M, Masturbation, More than one actually, Podfic Available, Post-Episode: Good Omens: Lockdown, Tentacle Dick, Tentacle Sex, Top Crowley (Good Omens), how is that not a tag???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 04:43:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29745183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Soar/pseuds/Phoenix_Soar
Summary: Nearly a year after lockdown began, Crowley indulges in some self-entertainment before going back to sleep. He decides to spice things up for himself, not expecting a certain angelic visitor to drop by...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 218
Collections: AwakeTheSnake, Top Crowley Library





	Sucker for You

**Author's Note:**

> Every single word of this is patently ridiculous. Consider it a stepping stone to my ambitious dream of writing monsterfucker Aziraphale
> 
> Shoutout to Fyre and MrsNoggin for 'wigglies' and 'love suckers' lmao

It started out as a joke. One meant solely for his amusement.

Crowley had just got off the phone with Aziraphale. According to the Angel and the terribly complicated alarm clock on his bedside table, it had been nearly a year and the world was still bollocks.

He’d been optimistic when he woke up, but his hopes were now dashed twice over. First by the bad news. Then by Aziraphale, ever the stickler, affirming that bloody _rules_ were still in place.

So it was either back to sleep, which was an attractive option, or a bit of self entertainment before sleep, which was the more attractive option.

With the world fucked and no sign of Aziraphale being ready to progress their relationship, a bit of indulgent diddling to tucker himself out would have him set for the next several months.

Crowley loved his cock and cunt, both of them exquisitely crafted*, but he had rather worn them out over the millennia. And after doomsday, not having Aziraphale to fuck with either was getting a bit sad.

(* It’s not bragging if it’s true.)

This was where his imagination got involved, thinking up ways to spice up his pity wank. Rifling through the smorgasbord of questionable _entertainment_ he’d found* in dark corners of the Internet back when he’d been transcendentally bored, his brain finally landed on a very specific genre of kink Crowley had been intrigued, and then thoroughly amused, to discover.

(* And some he’d partially inspired.)

Crowley perked up when the idea fleshed out in his mind. Oh, _yes_. What a way to up his masturbation game.

Throwing off his covers, Crowley shucked off the bottoms of his black satin pyjamas, kicking them unceremoniously off the side of his bed. He pulled the hem of his top up to his chest, minimising all hindrances and obstructions to his pelvis. Furrowing his brows in concentration, he snapped his fingers.

The mons between his legs, featureless and smooth except for the coarse patch of dark red curls, shifted and began to elongate. First taking on a large phallic shape, the way it did when Crowley manifested his cock, it then expanded and split once, twice, _thrice_ , until there were eight long tapering appendages sprouting from his pelvis, waving lazily in the air.

Crowley grinned in triumph at his thatch of tentacles. The two larger ones emerged from the centre, with the other tendrils, shorter and thinner, surrounding them in a symmetrical circle. They were the flushed red colour his cock became when he was hard, relatively tamer than the, er, _source material_ of his inspiration, because Crowley didn’t fancy parading an octopus around in his pants -

Wait, hang on. Thoughtful, he waved a hand at his tentacles and watched angry purple suckers pop up everywhere, latching onto the insides of his thighs -

Nope nope nope. No octopus.

Settling back on his pillows, Crowley slid a curious hand into the thatch.

‘Ahh…’ His breath caught in his throat at the unexpected thrill that shot through him. His tentacles were slick, leaving glistening trails over his palm and hand, and they were deliciously sensitive, jolts of arousal flaring up from where his fingers stroked them. Crowley grasped one of the centre appendages fully and stroked from its base to the tapering tip, jerking at it as he would his cock, and moaned loudly.

Oh, that felt _good_. And he had _eight_ of these babies to play with.

‘Treat yo’self,’ Crowley snickered loudly and plunged both of his hands, all ten wiggling fingers, into his thatch.

‘ _Fuck_!’ He yelped at the ceiling, his hips arching helplessly off the mattress. ‘Fuckfuckfuck _fuck_ -!’

Satan’s scorching sacballs, it was like he’d given himself eight different dicks and the sum of their separate pleasures. Panting desperately, Crowley grabbed at his tentacles, one after the other, both hands working over them roughly. His fingers twisted and slid over the slick skin of them, and Crowley felt sparks of pleasure rise from every inch his hands touched. And he could - oh shit, were they bloody _sentient_? They were - oh, wait, no, that wasn’t it. They were…

Crowley gave a bark of laughter when he realised what was up - he could _control_ them.

‘Fucking hell,’ he wheezed through gasps of pleasure. He could actually guide the tendrils around where he wanted them. Limited though he was to two hands, Crowley could nudge the neglected tentacles towards them, to rub over his knuckles and wrap around his wrists.

He watched them coil and undulate, not unlike himself when he took on his serpent form. All sinuous and wriggling. He moved them around a bit more and -

‘Whoa,’ Crowley gasped, hips jolting up again. He paused his hands, squinting down at the waving thatch, and tried to do _that_ again. ‘Shit!’

Crowley’s face split into a huge grin. Well, who would’ve thought? More tentacle perks - he could _fuck his own arse_.

Biting down on his bottom lip, Crowley concentrated again, bending one of the short, thinner tendrils to slip between his legs, teasing over his perineum to probe, gently, at his arsehole.

‘Ooh,’ Crowley shuddered in pleasure, planting his feet wide apart. The tentacle, oozing with its own lubrication, fluttered its tip against his rim, effectively slicking Crowley between his legs over and over until his hole relaxed enough to allow the barest inch to penetrate him. Breathing hard, Crowley kept going, inserting the tip of the tentacle inside him again and again. He opened himself up slowly, his thighs shaking as his arse stretched around the tentacle, its tapered head burrowing into him and pulling his walls tight over its flaring length until he was stuffed full.

A piteous whine tore out of his throat. He’d done this before with his fingers and even some humans he’d seduced back when Lust was a big deal for Downstairs. This right now didn’t feel like being fingered or fucked on a cock, but the sensation was overwhelming - there was the tip pressing against his prostate, combined with the sizzling pleasure within the tentacle itself. And when Crowley resumed stroking his hands over the others…

‘Oh _god_ ,’ he moaned loudly. The blasphemy was apt, he figured, because holy fuck, he was on _fire._

This might have started out as a joke but it was the best idea he’d ever had, Crowley decided in some miraculously coherent corner of his brain. Why the everlasting fuck hadn’t he been doing this _all the time_?!

Another addition to his Aziraphale wank fodder, then.

Great. Of course he couldn’t go without dredging up thoughts about the damn Angel, not even when he was living out fucking tentacle porn.

Would Aziraphale like them, he wondered as he bucked his hips, fucking his fists with his thatch while the bottom tendril continued to drive into his arse. It was probably too forward to spring tentacles on Aziraphale during their first time. Poor thing might be horrified. He ought to keep it traditional; he did have a beautiful cock and cunt the Angel could enjoy, after all. Or his arse. Nice pink butthole.

If they ever got around to getting naked and silly, that was. At the present rate -

The shrill ring of his mobile almost sent Crowley lurching off his bed, or it would have if his bed wasn’t so obnoxiously large. Crowley blessed out loud, tempted for half a second to just keep going, but there was only one being in existence who would call him now. He flung an arm out towards his bedside table, grappling for his phone.

Two things happened in quick succession. In his distracted fumbling, Crowley accidentally swiped the screen to answer; and then, through the speaker, out rushed the disassembled molecules of an Angel that swiftly clumped together to form a plump figure wearing a distressed expression that immediately froze on his face.

As did Crowley.

‘Cro -’

‘Aziraphale?!’

For the longest and most mortifying fifteen seconds in the history of humanity, the two of them gaped at each other in complete silence; Aziraphale standing by the foot of Crowley’s bed with his hands clasped in front of his stomach, and Crowley supine on the bed, with his hands buried in a bunch of tentacles that continued to undulate and coil about lazily.

Crowley was the one to break the silence. ‘What are you doing here?’ The words rolled off his tongue, formal and stiff; perfect enunciation. Shit.

‘I … I changed my mind,’ Aziraphale stammered, his wide blue eyes raking over Crowley’s interesting new genitals, including the tentacle that was still wedged up his arse. ‘About quarantining. Separately.’

‘Oh?’ said Crowley in a tone of polite interest, and fucking hell, this was excruciating.

‘Yes,’ Aziraphale squeaked, his eyes flicking between Crowley’s face and the tentacles like he was watching the world’s smallest game of tennis. ‘I - I have missed you terribly and,’ he licked his lips, ‘after we spoke just now, it occurred to me that I didn’t want to face however many more months without seeing you again.’

‘So you just dropped in through my phone.’

‘I didn’t break the rules that way.’ Aziraphale’s eyes were firmly back on Crowley’s crotch. He wasn’t even trying to look away anymore.

It was the most bizarre thing. The horrible silence had returned with a vengeance and Crowley wanted to _die,_ but Aziraphale - he was staring, almost borderline _entranced_ , the tip of his pink tongue poking out to swipe over his lips again, and his trousers…

Crowley swallowed. It was unmistakeable, that bulge in Aziraphale’s trousers. A very prominent, very big bulge.

If there had ever been any question as to whether Aziraphale would be into tentacles…

‘Angel,’ Crowley said hoarsely, the words bypassing his brain’s filter straight to his tongue, ‘there are two ways this could go down. You’re either gonna blush and bluster and scarper back to your shop and we never again speak about you popping a stiffy -’

‘ _I’m_ hardly the one in the compromising position here,’ said Aziraphale faintly.

‘Or you bring your arse over here to my lap and we finally get somewhere.’

Aziraphale bit his lip. ‘I wouldn’t have the slightest idea which genitals would complement those.’

‘So, option two, then,’ Crowley drawled, not bothering to fight down his smirk*.

(* It betrayed more relief and joy than he’d admit.)

The Angel’s answering blush was beautiful. And it served to ramp up Crowley’s arousal up to an eleven.

‘Should I change up my effort?’

‘Heavens blessed, Aziraphale, just pick one! I’m wearing these - these - ugh, these fucking love suckers, I don’t care if you sprout mushrooms and give off spores! Just - _get over here_.’

Despite this abrupt outburst of confidence, Crowley was still not expecting Aziraphale to act so quickly. The next minute found him dazed and slack-jawed as Aziraphale methodically undressed, and placing his folded clothes carefully by the bed, crawled up to obediently straddle Crowley’s thighs.

Though he still appeared a little shy, with his face flushed most fetchingly, Aziraphale was nonetheless straightforward in how he eyed Crowley’s tentacles and said,

‘Perhaps you could do that to me. If you’re amenable.’

Crowley was confused before Aziraphale tentatively grazed a fingertip along the tendril that was probing inside him.

Suddenly, the arousal he’d experienced during his magnificent wank seemed like nothing next to what he felt now. Swearing loudly, Crowley pulled Aziraphale in by his plush hips to properly seat him on his lap. And then he freed the tentacle up his arse, because Aziraphale deserved _all_ the tentacles.

The Angel gave a yelp that morphed into a surprised moan when the slippery limbs rose up to meet him. The slighter ones teased along the insides of his thighs and between his legs, while the larger two wrapped around his hard cock. Crowley kept a tight hold on his waist, helping to lift Aziraphale up so that a couple more could slide over his buttocks, allowing one to slide into the warm cleft.

‘Oh, good lord…’ Aziraphale whimpered, his hands gripping Crowley’s upper arms for support while he tentatively swivelled his hips.

The tentacles coiled and moved along with him, stroking and winding around his cock, and spreading his arse cheeks. The one slicking up his cleft prodded carefully at his hole, the way Crowley had done to himself, but next moment there was the shimmer of a miracle; he _felt_ Aziraphale loosen against him and instinctively, Crowley thrust in, burying himself inside the Angel.

Crowley blessed out loud. ‘Did you just -?’ He choked off when Aziraphale abruptly rocked down on his lap, trying to fuck himself on Crowley.

‘No, no, ssstop,’ he whispered, digging his fingers into Aziraphale’s hips to slow his movements. ‘’S not a dick, angel. Here, let me…’

Helping to hold Aziraphale a few inches above him, Crowley focussed on his tentacles, undulating the one inside Aziraphale to fill him again and again while the others slicked and circled his cock, jerking him off hard and fast.

‘Crowley, Crowley…!’ Aziraphale gasped and cried his name, swaying back and forth helplessly.

He was flushed all over, his chest heaving for breath and head thrown back. Crowley had never seen a more arresting vision and he sat up, latching onto Aziraphale’s soft neck with greedy lips and sharp teeth. He kissed and licked over the salty skin, steadily making his way down until his mouth covered a pert nipple.

Aziraphale’s nails dug into his biceps and the Angel came with a sharp cry, spilling over both of their stomachs. Crowley didn’t relent, burying his face in Aziraphale’s chest while his tentacles stroked and rubbed against him, over and over again, until Crowley felt the tight knot of heat inside him unravel.

His orgasm was unlike any he had experienced before. There was nothing to spill, nothing to gush out of him. But he felt the peak of pleasure in every tendril, which rippled and went taut for endless seconds before the tension finally seeped out of him.

In the wake of their waning high, Crowley lifted his head. Their eyes met.

‘You better not have spilt ink inside me,’ Aziraphale said after a pause, offering a chuckle.

Crowley was glad to hear it. ‘’M not a fucking octopus, I made sure,’ he said, rolling his eyes. He hesitated. ‘So. That was a thing.’

‘Quite.’ Aziraphale nodded. He was still in Crowley’s lap, now fully seated with the tentacles, soft and limp at last, resting against his belly and thighs. ‘I suppose we now ought to, um, talk … about our, I mean how we -’

‘Packed six thousand years of unspoken baggage into unnegotiated tentacle sex?’ Crowley supplied dryly. ‘Yup. You just had my wigglies up your arse, angel. No avoiding it now.’

Aziraphale made an exasperated noise, but he was blushing and, to Crowley’s intense relief, smiling. ‘You’re right. But perhaps we can do that after we try _this_.’

With that, he snapped his fingers and Crowley’s jaw dropped when Aziraphale’s spent cock disappeared and a pink, glistening cunt took its place.

‘It just seems to me that this provides numerous options to pick and choose from,’ Aziraphale said and the absolute _bastard_ , his eyes were fucking twinkling. ‘It would be hardly sporting to let them go to waste. Wouldn’t you agree?’

Crowley fell silent, thinking carefully. ‘That depends,’ he said at last, ‘on whether I’m exploring these options by myself or not.’

Aziraphale smiled. ‘I think the answer to that is pretty clear.’

Grinning, Crowley rolled them over. ‘So, what option do you want to try first?’

‘Hmm … shall we see how many we can fit inside at once?’

**Author's Note:**

> It's 5 am and I have no excuse XD But if you made it to the end, thanks for checking this out ahaha
> 
> Make my day with a comment or come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RV_Phoenix_Soar) and [Tumblr](https://phoenix-soar.tumblr.com) <3
> 
> More of my Ineffable Husbands fics [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=575567&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Phoenix_Soar)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Sucker For You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29776476) by [Djapchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djapchan/pseuds/Djapchan)




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